


Sammy Doesn't Cry His Way Through Sex (He Cries at the End)

by ApplePieAndHotChicks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApplePieAndHotChicks/pseuds/ApplePieAndHotChicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was shivering, his eyes screwed up as tight as he could managed. His labored breathing was the only thing to be heard, that and the roaring sound of blood in his ears. He was trying so hard to not let the tears fall, but he felt so damn good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sammy Doesn't Cry His Way Through Sex (He Cries at the End)

Sammy was far too young for this. He shouldn't know this much about sex, the kid shouldn't know how to give head like a first class whore but he did. Shouldn’t know how to ride a cock like it was his job. Shouldn’t know how to jack off another guy, either. And Dean probably shouldn't have been the one who fucking taught him these things but he was the one who taught him. Better than anyone else teaching him at least. 

Poor kid didn’t even know how to fucking long divide yet.

Scratch that, he probably did. (Kid was a fucking genius, after all) It was Dean who couldn’t, even though he was like eighteen. Or nineteen? Fuck. But that doesn’t matter.

What matters, at least right now, was that Sammy’s little, petite body was naked on the bed, writhing. Making these distressed, brief moans and gasps and sighs as he fingered himself a little too fast and rough. 

He was still growing into his body, his arms and legs were still too long but they were beginning to tone and muscle out. He still held a little bit of baby fat in his cheeks and on his stomach from his chubby years. Kid was gonna grow up and be a strapping young man, if he took after his older brother, that is. Sam was still a pretty sight to look at, he sure was cute boy. Handsome even, when he tried to be. Downright sexy as of right now.

The only thing audible was Sam’s breath echoing off the paper thin, cream colored walls of the vacant hotel they were currently stuck in, and the almost-gross sound of his lube covered fingers forcing their way in and out of Sam’s tight, pink ass. Sam’s eyes were half lidded and dull, no color of that gorgeous hazel showing. His thoughts and movements were robotic and jerky. All that he could fathom was fucking himself with his fingers, trying to snap his wrist up and curl his fingers in just the right way to hit that spot that felt so good.

In. Out. In. Out. Curl. Twist. Out. In. 

That’s what he did. Just fuckin’ himself down on his fingers while Dean watched (watched Sammy like it was the most beautiful and riveting thing in the whole world. Totally was, anyway), palming his cock through his pants but those were soon off, alongside the rest of their clothes in the floor. Gettin’ hot in here, he thought as if that was a good excuse to be naked alongside your little brother who was masturbating. Yeah, totally a good excuse.

“Dean,” He exasperated through loose lips. Sam’s mouth was dry and his tongue felt like the midwest. Sam’s jaw was slack and hung up like a broken screen door, “Stop watching and help me please.”

“Don’t wanna,” Dean replied, fisting his cock now, “Like watching you,” Sam was growing up to be such a little slut, which was totally okay, Dean loved it. God, he wanted to fuck him so bad. Sam was such a pretty tease.

“Fuck me,” Sam whined as he threw his head to the side. Dean wasn’t sure if that was an invitation or just a complaint, “I can’t come, please,” Sam could never come by himself. Always needed Dean’s help one way or another. Needed Dean’s hand pumping his needy cock. Needed Dean whispering dirty things in Sam’s ear. Needed Dean to kiss him hot and heavy and sloppy all over his body. Fuckin’ needed it.

“Okay, okay,” Dean panted, rolling over to the other side of the bed and fumbling as quickly as possible for lube. Put way too much on his dick and honestly, he probably didn’t need any ‘cause it seemed like Sam used half the bottle inside of him already but fuck that. Like it actually mattered, “I got you, baby,” He said as he pressed the head of his cock at Sam’s flushed entrance. Slowly, his began pushing in. It was an easy thrust for all the preparation and lube, still tight but at least Sam wasn’t in pain, and that’s what mattered. Wanted to make Sam feel good. Wanted to make him come.

Dean watching his face closely, for any sign of pain or discomfort. Sam’s face was pressed into the pillow. He was sighing and panting and rocked his hips. Once Dean was fully buried inside he waited a second for Sam to fully adjust.

“Move,” Sam begged as he started to roll his hips, desperately trying to fuck himself down on Dean’s cock. He face was flushed all the way down his neck and to his erect nipples. He was sweating, kid always sweated.

Dean leaned down, licking a broad stripe up his neck, savoring the salty (almost sweet) flavor of need off of Sam’s stretch out neck. Pulling back, and carefully pushing in, Dean created a rhythm.

In. Out. In. Out.

A painfully slow, teasing rhythm. Sam was letting out these hasty, helpless moans and saying, “Harder, harder, please, I can take it,”

So, Dean let him have it harder. He did say please. Good boys do get rewarded, especially when they ask so nicely. 

He started to pick up his rhythm. Holding Sam down by his forearm pressed doggedly on Sam’s chest, right below his collarbones. Casually, like fucking his younger brother was a totally normal pastime of his, he brought up his speed until the headboard of the bed was crashing into the drywall. 

“Dea-,” Sam practically sobbed. His eyes were watering, his cheeks so red that they almost looked burnt.

“You close?” Dean panted, leaning closer to nuzzle down into Sam’s hair. He smelled like cheap motel shampoo and sweat and desire and something that just smelt like Sammy. Sam nodded now and was hiccoughing. He could barely breath so Dean removed his forearm from his chest but that really didn’t help the situation, “Come for me, Sammy,” Dean huffed, sweating dripping from his brow, soaking the sheets beneath them.

“I can’t,” His voice sounded so broken. He coughed and panted and was fucking crying, “I can’t come, it hurts,”

“Shit, Sammy,” Dean gasped and stopped imminently, “I didn’t know I was hurtin’ you,”

“You’re not,” Sam replied, finally being able to take a deep breath, “It hurts not being able to come when I’m so close, please keep going.”

His body felt so hot. It felt like it was going to burst into flames at any given second. Spontaneous combustion was a real thing, okay. He felt too big for his skin, like his balls were going to explode or his dick would split. He was so close, he was so overstimulated. 

Dean was saying all these things in his ear and Dean was licking and kissing all over him and Dean fucked him ruthlessly into the mattress, making the mattress squeal and squeak in protest and

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” He whimper, thrashing his head back and forth. 

“Yeah, I’m here,” Dean responded, “I’m close, baby, will you come from me, Sammy, please,” Dean cooed, kissing the deep lines of frustration on Sam’s sweat drenched forehead.

“Y-yeah,”

Sam did come, about time, too, Dean thought. He was shivering, his eyes screwed up as tight as he could managed. His labored breathing was the only thing to be heard, that and the roaring sound of blood in his ears. He was trying so hard to not let the tears fall, but he felt so damn good.

“Hey, Sam? Sam. Sammy,” Dean said in concern, pulling the heap of shaking Sam into his lap, “You ‘kay?”

Sam nodded, “Feels so good,” He muttered into the crook of Dean’s leg, “So good,”


End file.
